[OOM] Labyrinth / Krampus Plot with Eric

[fluffiest_archadian]

Mrlgh, there's - fuzz on Sherral's face. A kind of cloying, drying fuzz that clings even to dry skin.

As Sherral opens his eyes, he sees that it's woollen yarn, in bright pink and orange, from the suspiciously snug floor where he's sprawled beneath a cheerful woollen lamp with a knitted lightbulb inside.

This is not what he was expecting. A room full of yarn - a quick glance around confirms that everything seems to be either covered in or made of wool, checkered in various coloured patterns. A knitted puppet the size of a man stares at him from one of corner - is never really expected.

"Faram's balls," he growls.

Comments

[onceaviking]

Eric falls back, shielding his face from the light.

He hates magic.

When the accursed light is gone, he takes the next round, moving through the ranks of the undead at vampire speed, tearing them apart with his hands and mouth.

It is gruesome work.

And rather bloodless, which, truth be told, weighs heavier in his opinion.

He reaches the door and pauses, looking back. Covered in filth. Then he leans against the door post. Might as well wait. For a number of reasons.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral gives his sword a quick tap. Not enough Mist to cast another holy-powered Hastega.

But he follows anyway, and any which sweep in after Eric he cuts down with quick, violent strikes. It seems, to him, to take an age before he's at the door.

"Tell me it opens," Sherral says, and tugs at the door. It's locked, because of course it is. He jabs a thumb back at the approaching horde of undead. "Deal with them, I'll get this open."

[onceaviking]

"I do not take orders," Eric says. Tight lipped. Then he smiles. The fangs and the gore makes it an unsettling sight.

"But it is a sensible suggestion and I have missed a good fight. "

And so he throws himself at the horde of undead. It sounds like he might be singing.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral's seen worse.

He rolls his eyes a bit, and gets to work on the door. Subtlety is overrated, so he doesn't try lockpicking: He just hacks at the lock.

[onceaviking]

After a while, Eric returns, leaving behind a veritable mountain of body parts.

"This is hungry work, " he says breezily, as he wipes his mouth.

"Are you done?"

They must be done now, right?






[OOC : bedtime]

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Almost."

One last strike, and the lock comes off. Sherral opens the door, letting out a blast of cold air and snow.

Once again, he stands back to let Eric pass through first, examining his sword for any damage.

[onceaviking]

Eric walks through, without comment this time.

Ah, this takes him back. The frigid wind, the way the snow cuts your face.

There doesn't seem to be any enemies here. If course, one might consider the vast, icy land stretching out in front of them, the gloomy sky above, yes the wind, and the sleet, and the snow enemies on their own.

He looks back. "I hope you enjoy the cold?"

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Rather reminds me of home," Sherral remarks, wryly, following him. The door shuts behind them and, a second later, turns to snow and flutters to the ground. "But I profess I'm not dressed for the weather."

He pauses, glancing around. "How exactly are we meant to find the way out of this place?"

[onceaviking]

Eric shields his eyes.
"I think there is something ahead of us. There's a shadow in the wind. "

He looks back at Sherral.
" How far can you walk? "

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Plenty far," Sherral says briskly. "If I need you to carry me like a maid to her marriage bed, I'll make sure to notify you."

In truth, the cold is already starting to chill his bones. But he's withstood colder, for a while at least.

Besides. He's a soldier of the Archadian Empire. Archadian soldiers are not defeated by inclement weather.

[onceaviking]

"Oh, please do," Eric replies. "I am certain you would make a beautiful display, all weak in the knees and blushing."

And then he strides off, clearly unaffected by the cold.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Truly, a show to set a quiver to the loins of all who saw," Sherral replies agreeably, and follows.

He keeps pace with Eric well enough for the moment, even if he does have his arms wrapped around himself for warmth.

[onceaviking]

Eric grooms himself as they walk along, removing bits of putrid flesh from his clothes, hair, and face.

For all that he is still really angry about being trapped, this has turned out to be if not outright fun, then at least therapeutic. Ripping heads off; it always works.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral would just like to escape now, instead of this endless series of increasingly impossible and bizarre rooms.

He flexes his fingers slightly, summoning up a small flicker of Mist. Not enough to use to warm himself up yet.

[onceaviking]

"It is rare where I come from, magic," Eric remarks.
Then he grins.

"At least magic that works. "

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Wholly common where I come from," Sherral says. "I'm no great talent at it, yet that I learn was a requirement to pass my basic training."

He pauses. Mildly: "The sword helps. I might even go so far as to call it a painstakingly crafted crutch."

[onceaviking]

"It is certainly impressive," Eric agrees.
"I find I have little use for weapons these days."

He grins.

"Or nights. As it were."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"You seem to fare well enough without them."

Beat.

"So long as you're not facing ungulates."

[onceaviking]

Eric snorts.

"I should like to find that thing,"he says ominously.

"I am sure it bleeds."

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Most things do."

[onceaviking]

"Yet, none of the things we have met here did," Eric grumbles.
"And I am hungry."

The wind has picked, whipping them with tiny shards of ice.

[fluffiest_archadian]

Sherral arches an eyebrow, but says nothing about it.

Besides, he's more concerned with shielding his face from the ice right now, ducking behind one arm with a growl.

[onceaviking]

Eric looks back at him, grinning a little.

"Let me know when you turn into a wilting maiden," he says with barely suppressed mirth.

[fluffiest_archadian]

"Hold your fantasies for the moment, we are not quite that far gone yet," Sherral replies.

[onceaviking]

They are slowly getting closer to the door, standing tall and strange in the whirling snow.

"Should it be a fantasy you would have to have been a truly comely maiden. With rosy cheeks and soft, warm breasts."

He smiles to himself.